Without Destiny
by oooSilverWolfooo
Summary: Maybe the thought of Fate, my destiny, had absolutely nothing to do with my choice, and I just really hated my father and the gods. After all, my life was already planned. It's not my fault the Fates decided that when I grew up, I would be a traitor to Olympus. What complete and utter bullshit. I never was one to believe in destiny. F/F
1. Chapter 1

Without Destiny

Chapter 1

In everyone's life, there comes a moment of choice that decides the rest of your existence. Only, when you're a demigod, choice is an illusion. Before you are even born, the Fates already know your path, the choices you will make, and the destiny you are going to fulfill.

Your life is already lived before you even have your first thought. It's a depressing notion, one that I've had since I first learn that the gods were real. Maybe that's why I made my choice. Maybe I did it as a 'fuck you' for knowing my life- what I was going to go through, and doing nothing about it.

Maybe the thought of Fate, my destiny, had absolutely nothing to do with my choice, and I just really hated my father and the gods.

After all, my life was already planned. It's not my fault the Fates decided that when I grew up, I would be a traitor to Olympus.

What complete and utter bullshit. I never was one to believe in destiny.

...

It's not betraying the gods that I regret- no, I hate them- but it's the others, the thought of camp, that causes the rueful poison to snake through my veins.

They were, for a while, my family. The only family I've ever had. Now they would cut me down if they ever saw me again; they wouldn't wait for an explanation or ask me why I did it. My family, my brothers and sisters and the only place I ever had an inclination of home, hates me.

And my other friends are either dead or on the run just like me. Luke is dead, Mason is dead, Alison is dead.

The only reason I don't just give up is the prospect of going to the underworld to face my crimes.

So I keep running. After Kronos's fall, the monsters and demigods scattered. So soon after the battle, only days, and we are still being hunted.

The scythe necklace rests hotly against my collarbone, an angry reminder of my mistake. I've tried tossing it, ripping it from my neck, but once you side with the king titan, you are stuck.

Like golden boy Percy's pen, it always returns to its home around my throat- like a noose. I will never be rid of Him.

Touching the necklace now, it flares its spastic heat like it has been doing randomly since Kronos fell, reminding me constantly of the chaos that must have befell him and his army.

My fingers fall back to my side, brushing against the damp leaves on the forest floor with a sense of detachment. Everything feels like it's falling apart, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I push myself to my feet, trying to scoop up any semblance of purpose, and start walking again without any idea of where I am.

I've been on four different trains since I deserted from the titan army and ran, and it's been three days on foot.

A snapping sound of wet branches has me pausing. Very slowly, I reach inside my pocket to finger and withdraw a pen.

I had designed my weapon after Percy's, except mine is a click pen rather than a capped. I click it now and feel the familiar weight expand in my hand, lengthening to a staff.

I grab the center of the metal shaft, running my thumbs over the plates and grooves until I find the one I'm looking for, and pressing a plate it.

The staff breaks apart into two smaller pieces, and I again press another plate that causes a blade to spring out on either piece.

Two shining celestial bronze sickles rest familiarly in my dirt smudged hands.

I named my weapon Morph because of all the shapes my armament can take with the right twist or press of button. It is my most prized creation that I've ever made in all my time in the forges. The twin sickles are one of my favorites.

I used to think how proud my father would be of me for making something like Morph, but that was before I learned the truth of Hephaestus- that he didn't really care for me at all as just another one of the products from his happy time in the mortal world.

I take a cautious step in the direction I heard the noise, raising my weapons in preparation for a fight. The green foliage shivers, causing my muscles to tense- and a deer leaps from behind the bush, bolting from its hiding spot.

A startled laugh falls from my chapped lips and, with sickle still in grip, I run my grimy hand though my short hair. It falls back around my chin as if I hadn't touched it

Having blond hair and slim fingers is a rare trait for a child of Hephaestus. Most have dark hair and strong thick digits, which is just another thing that further sets me apart from my siblings.

With a sigh, I reattach Morph and press the plate that turns it back into a pen, before shoving it in my pocket.

For a few moments, I just stand there staring at the endless green trees and vegetation.

"What am I doing?" I whisper to myself, and wait breathlessly for any sign that something heard me. No sound reaches my ears other than the normal patter of rain and forest noise, so I shove my hands in my pocket and hang my head.

Of course, now, the gods would not provide me an answer- especially after my betrayal. They didn't even answer when I was fighting _for_ Olympus.

With another sigh, I pick my head up and stride forward with as much confidence as I can manage. Before anything else, I need to find a town or city to refill my empty water bottle and find something to eat.

The gods prove that they have no favor for me.

I don't have time to register a metallic click before something clamps down hard on my ankle, digging a thousand knives into my skin, reaching right to the bone.

A scream tears from my throat, triggering a flock of birds to take flight in terror, as flames lick at my ankle.

Instant tears stream from my eyes as I land heavily on the ground, clutching desperately at the bear trap that had been expertly covered.

I scream again, through clenched teeth, as my fingers slide wetly through my own blood saturating the polished silver metal, trying to pry it open.

"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods," I chant, like a mantra, between my sobs. "Come on!"

I curse as the teeth break the skin of my fingers, and I release it furiously to cradle my now bleeding hands to my chest. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! I _hate_ you!"

I fumble on the ground for a thick branch, and jab it carelessly into the closed bear trap to try once again to get it to open.

The branch breaks, giving me a splinter. " _Fuck!_ "

"Hey," a soft voice calls, and I snap my head up to stare wide eyed at a tall girl with tanned skin hurrying out of the trees toward me. Bizarrely, she wears only shorts and a tank top even though last night I could see my breath.

I was too distracted by pain to hear her approach, but now I wipe furiously at the tears so this stranger won't see me crying. I never let anyone see me cry, even my friends.

I tense as she kneels in front of me, and she reaches tentatively for my trapped foot. The girl, who I had not ruled out being a nymph, fiddles with the trap a moment before it springs open.

I instantly pull my foot into my body and clutch at it as a new kind of pain pulses in the open wounds.

"What are you even doing out here?" She accuses, tossing the trap aside with a heavy sound.

"Hiking," I spit at her, on edge with her criticizing tone. "I didn't think hunting season had started already."

She looks up at my face for the first time, with a scowl. Then, expression quickly turns to astonishment, confusion, before becoming eerily blank.

Her voice though, does this weird waver. "It hasn't. There have been some sightings of large bears, and campers have been going missing, so the locals have taken to hunting them."

"Fantastic," I grumble, wincing as I try to flex my foot, but only getting a wave of pain for my efforts.

The girl's eyes once again go to my bleeding limb, with a new worry that wasn't there before.

"We should get that checked out; come on," I cringe away from her reaching hands, instinctively hitting them away.

"I'm fine; I don't need your help," I snap, more than ever annoyed, not at the girl for helping me, but for myself getting to be in this situation.

Her own irritation leaks into her voice. "I think you do; you can't even walk."

"Yes I can!" I hiss, and clamber to my feet just to prove her wrong.

All the blood in my body rushes down to my foot, resulting in the steady stream of blood to grow heavier and my vision to swim. The ground seems to tilt before the girl is at my side and steadying me against my protests.

"I said I'm fine!" I hiss trying to shrug her off, but the blood loss must have made me weak. My efforts do little.

"Like hell you are," She snaps, and then the world is tilting again. When it steadies, I'm in her arms, cradled against her chest as she starts running through the woods.

The fuck?!

"Put me down!" I shout struggling in my kidnapper's grip. "Hey! Get your fucking hands off me!"

She grunts in effort, having to shift her hold, but she doesn't stutter in her steps.

"I'm just taking you to get some help; calm down."

"I don't want your fucking help! No means no, alright?! I can take care of myself!"

She stumbles to a stop, and glances down at me, conflict written on her face.

"Please," she whispers. "We're almost there. We don't even have to go to the doctors if that's what you want, but you need to get your foot looked at."

The offer is tempting. My entire leg feels like Greek fire was thrown on it, but I open my mouth to shout at her again to leave me alone (out of sheer stubbornness), only to pause. Stubbornness, not wanting to back down or admit I was wrong, is my fatal flaw. It's why I'm in this situation to begin with. It was my downfall. It just might kill me if I can't get a handle on it.

"Fine," I grit out, like it's physically painful to do. In a way, it is as everything in me wars with backing down and giving in.

I do it anyway, and relief expresses itself in the girl's expression before she once again sets off to wherever she thinks is 'help.'

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys, so, new story. I got the idea from _emmarcse_ , and I hope you like it. Please review and let me know what you think.**

 **~Silver~**


	2. Chapter 2

Without Destiny

Chapter 2

It's a good five minutes before we emerge from the tree line into the backyard of a small, two-story house with a miniature garden wrapping around the side.

I startle a bit as "Emily!" suddenly sounds from the girl.

The door opens, revealing a woman in her early twenties with three scars that take up one entire side of her face. The non-marred side curbs to concern when she sees me, and holds the screen wide for my personal transport to carefully maneuver me through the door.

We pass through the kitchen and into what I assume is the main room with a couch set in front of a television set.

"Set her on the couch, Leah," Emily commands gently, appearing in the room with several towels and a first aid kit. I find it strange that she doesn't automatically demand me be taken to the hospital.

The girl, I now know is named Leah, does as directed before taking a step back and wringing her hands together. They are stained with my blood, as well as her shirt.

"What happened?" Emily requests as she kneels on the floor by my injured limb. She gives me what is supposed to be a reassuring smile as I tense.

"Bear trap," Leah responds shortly. "Says she was hiking." She takes time out of her pacing to look me over disbelievingly in my dirty and tattered outfit still stained with others' blood. It could probably pass for my own now, if they ask.

Emily hums and gets to work putting pressure on my wounds. Even though it hurts, I hold perfectly still without a sound.

"What's your name, Sweetie?" Emily asks after awhile, pulling out a thread and needle.

"Mack," I grunt, grimacing at the term of endearment.

"Alright, Mack," the woman says soothingly, "I need to sew you up, but I don't have any anesthetic. It's going to hurt a little bit, okay?"

I nod impassively, gritting my teeth as the needle finally makes contact.

When she's done, she sits back with a smile, reaching for gauze to cover the newly closed wound before pulling off her blue latex gloves.

"There you go; good as new."

"Thanks," I sigh reluctantly and make a move to get to my feet.

Leah is instantly at my side and pushing me back into the cushions, and then has gall to look hurt when I slap her hands angrily away.

"What is with you?!" I hiss at her, furious with her pushy and touchy self like she has all the right in the world to me.

"You're still hurt!" She growls right back. "You need to rest."

"I'll rest when I'm away from _you_!" I shoot at her.

She throws her head back and gives a quiet scream of frustration through her teeth.

"Leah..." Emily warns.

The girl closes her eyes and takes a slow deep breath.

"Okay," she says after a moment, sounding somewhat calm. "What is your plan from here? Who would you like me to call?"

Emily stands and exits the room as if expecting things to start flying and she doesn't want to get caught in it.

"No one."

"Don't be stubborn and let people help you," Leah scowls. "Just tell me who I can call."

"I already told you," I grind out. "No one. I'm on my own."

Leah recoils as if I hit her. Then her face softens as the earlier frustration melts into concern.

"How old are you? What about your parents?"

I cross my arms. "I'm sixteen. And my mom is dead and dad doesn't give a fuck what happens to me. He'd be glad to find me dead."

Leah swallows harshly and locks fingers behind her back. Her mouth gapes a little bit, lost as to what to say.

Emily enters the room, then, carrying crutches which she leans against the couch beside me.

"You can stay with me," Leah says suddenly, taking a half step forward before pausing.

I'm about to refuse, but hesitate. If I say no, she'll keep insisting until I eventually agree. Then I would have lost. I don't like to lose.

I glance out the window to the late afternoon sun.

"Fine," I say. "Just for tonight. Thank you, Emily, for sewing me up."

The kind, scarred, woman smiles gently at me. "You were an excellent patient."

I return the smile awkwardly before fumbling to my feet with the help of the crutches she brought me.

Leah opens the door for me and leads me out into the light drizzle, hovering the entire time just a few feet away.

An awkward silence falls over us so that the only sound that is heard is the steady click of crutches on the uneven ground. After a while, she looks at me fretfully.

"I'm sorry," she says lowly.

My brows furrow. "For what?"

She opens her mouth but then it clicks shut when she can't seem to answer. "I don't know. Everything I guess. I'm sorry you're hurt. I'm sorry that you don't like me. I'm sorry about your parents."

I sigh, cutting her ramble short. "Save your pity for someone that can do something with it. It won't change anything for me so it does no one any good except to make _you_ feel bad."

We lapse into an even more awkward silence than the one before.

...

Heart in my throat, I startle awake with a scream pressing on my lips. My fingers scramble at the sheets at my side, balling them in my fist as I try to shake off the familiar nightmare and get my bearings.

I feel strange. There is a throbbing fire in my ankle like a hellhound used it as a chew toy and, other than the sweat soaking my sheets and plastering my hair to my face, I feel oddly clean. I haven't felt clean in over a week.

I take a shaky breath, allowing the dream to loose its hold on my mind as the current events of the day before replay in my memories. Only when my lungs start to burn from lack of air do I let it out in one long exhale.

My hand goes to my hair, pushing the damp locks back and even successfully tucking most of it behind my ears. With that, I climb slowly out of bed and hop on one foot to the door.

The bathroom, which I remember from the night before, is a little way down the hall. Grimacing, I gently touch my toe to the ground and apply a slight pressure. It's bearable, so I limp quietly in the direction of the throne, using a hand against the wall to keep balanced.

I pause before I push the door open. Voices sound in the other room and curiosity nudges at my being. After a moment, I creep, as much as I can, to the end of the hall to eavesdrop on the quiet murmur.

"Congratulations, Leah. You out of everyone deserve to find your imprint," an unfamiliar male voice says.

"Thanks... what do I do, Sam? She hates me."

There is a pause. "She?"

Leah scoffs. "Yeah, _she_ ; is that a problem?"

"No, no, you just surprised me," the voice quickly reassures. "You said her name was Mack."

"Yeah; Mack is a girl. It's short for something a guess. Mackenzie or whatever." I scowl at hearing my full name.

Another silence. "Are you going to bring her over to Emily's today? I know the rest of the guys are going to want to meet her as soon as possible."

"Yeah, if she wants to go. Mack doesn't... take well to being told what to do."

My lips turn up a bit. So she is learning; maybe there's hope for her yet.

I shake the thought off and focus back on the conclusion of the conversation as the man, Sam, laughs.

"If I remember correctly, neither did you."

"Yes, well..."

The sound of shuffling moves in the direction of the door and pauses there.

"I really am happy for you. You'll figure things out."

"Thank you. I'll see you later."

"Try to get her to come over."

"We'll see."

I shuffle backwards and slip into the bathroom as the front door opens and closes.

I take my time before washing my hands and limping back to my room. Leah waits perched on the bed, expression awkward, and fiddling with a clean set of clothes and my old shoes that are now blood free.

"The pants might be too big," she offers, holding them out to me.

I nod my acknowledgment, and take them appreciatively.

"Where's my shirt? The orange one? Can I have that back?"

Leah frowns. "It's all ruined though, I was just going to throw it away."

"I would like it back, please."

Her face softens. "Alright, I'll stick it in the wash with the next load."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem."

I carefully shuck off the sleep shirt and pants I was given and maneuver into my new set of clothes as Leah nervously stares out the window.

"Relax, I'm done," I say, and flop onto the bed with a groan.

She turns her eyes down to me with, again, that soft smile.

"Would you like to go to Emily's today? She usually makes breakfast for me and the guys."

"Sure," I say. I already decided that I would go, when she said she wouldn't make me. Besides, I'm starving. The dinner I had the night before with Leah and her mom is not helping now.

She smiles brilliantly down at me. I flick my eyes away to pick up a metal contraption, that was in my pocket, from the nightstand to fiddle with the pieces. They come apart easily and easily go back together to form something else. A bird.

"What's that?" Leah asks.

"Nothing. I have ADHD. It helps me keep my hands busy."

"Oh, cool."

"I guess." I shove the disassembled pieces into my pocket and reach for my pen to shove in too. Then I stuff my good foot into a shoe and stand up.

"Are we going?"

"Yeah!" Leah jumps to her feet, hands me the crutches, and leads the way out the door.

* * *

 **A/N: Alright, here's the next one. Please let me know what you think. I'm kind of liking this story but I have no idea where I'm going with it yet.**

 **~Silver~**


	3. Chapter 3

Without Destiny

Chapter 3

The boys are... interesting. They burst through the door shortly after Leah and I arrive at Emily's, loudly arguing, shoving, and laughing at each other. They act at home in this woman's house as some flop on the couch or floor, or wander into the kitchen looking for food only to be batted away by the scarred woman with a wooden spoon.

I go unnoticed, for the most part, until the last large, shirtless, male enters the house and makes his way over to my doctor. He kisses her so lovingly that I feel awkward and have to look away. But then his eyes land on Leah and then move along the room until they land on me.

"You must be Mack," he comments, drawing away from his fiancé to step closer. "I am Sam."

"Salutations," I say, giving nothing away in my expression or voice.

Leah, beside me, shifts.

The other boys, all big and muscular and tan, finally take notice of me as well and fall silent.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up like whenever I'm faced with something dangerous. Even though they don't feel like monsters, my hand slips into my pocket to fiddle with Morph.

"I heard what happened," Sam ventures to say. "How's your leg?"

"I've had worse," I shrug nonchalantly even as my eyes dart around the room to confirm all the escape routes that I had naturally noticed the first time I was brought into this house.

"You stepped in a bear trap, right?" One boy, huge but unmistakable young, asks. I recognize him from one of the photos I saw at Leah's house. Her brother, I conclude. He was spending the night at a friend's last night, I remember Mrs. Clearwater telling me.

"Yes," I hiss sourly in answer.

One of the boys snorts, and I turn to glower in his direction. I immediately dislike him even before he finishes opening his mouth. "That's why you shouldn't go traipsing through the woods. It's dangerous for little girls like you."

A snarl curves my lips, and I have to push down the urge to go marching immediately into the woods just to spite him. "They might be scary to you with the big bad wolves lurking around, and might even have a dangerous monster or two hanging about, but I can take care of myself."

A few of the boys 'Oh' like elementary school children. The others exchange looks as the boy under my stare starts shaking in fury. I half expect him to launch himself at me, and my hand clenches around my pen in response.

"Paul," Sam calls in warning, and the boy's shaking stills to just a tremble in his hands. How boring.

Just then, a loud rumbling comes from an engine burning too much oil and one of the boys stand up to look out the window. "Bella's here," he smiles, and opens the door to meet her.

Emily takes this moment of distraction to approach me, gently placing a hand on my arm. I fight the gut instinct to shake her off because, out of all these people, she's might be my favorite- or the least annoying.

"Mack, how are the stitches?" She asks.

"They're fine," I reply somewhat shortly and through gritted teeth. I can already tell that this careless mistake is already turning into a sore subject.

"Would you mind if I took a look?"

I agree with only a moment's hesitation because, really, I wish I had some nectar or ambrosia to speed up the healing process. My departure had been quick and unplanned, so I only had the clothes on my back and the things in my pocket when I got on that first train. You tend to not think of packing essentials when you are watching friends kill each other, dangerous monsters you have grown up learning how to kill (because they are trying to kill you) are fighting beside you, and you are turning your back on the titan king.

I maneuver my way into the kitchen where my doctor has me sit on a stool and prop my foot up. She unbandages the pinked wrap and examines the crude stitches.

She tosses the ruined cloth in the trash and pulls out more materials from under the sink.

I hiss as she smears a bad smelling cream gently over the raised skin and black sutures. Then she rewraps the wound with fresh gauze.

"There you go, all better." I almost expect her to hand me a lollipop and tell me what a good girl I had been. Actually, a lollipop would not have been turned down.

"Thanks," I grunt reluctantly. I haven't been looked after in this way since camp.

"Of course. Now, the stitches need to stay in for about two weeks and you need to change the bandages daily. I would prefer to take them out if you are going to stay awhile?"

I frown at the hope in her voice. "We'll see," I settle on saying, turning to head back out into the main room so she can finish the feast she appears to be making.

There is a new addition to the room when I enter it- a girl that looks vastly different than all the people I've seen so far. Her hair is a brown that frames a sickly pale face. There is no carefree look about her like the others; she is stiff and has bags underneath haggard and stressed eyes.

The stiffness clearly has nothing to do with the company; she is comfortable around them and, though her demeanor and appearance is vastly different, she is accepted as one of them.

I'm not. Conversation seems to stop as they notice me, and the following beat of silence is awkward.

"Hello," the girl says. "Are you someone's-"

"Bella-" the boy who raced outside at her arrival (her boyfriend maybe) cuts in, giving her a look. "This is Mack. She is staying with Leah for a bit until her foot heals."

"So she doesn't-"

"No," he once again cuts off her words.

My eyes narrow. They are clearly hiding something. There is something strange about these people.

"Hey," I respond, stepping further into the room. It doesn't go unnoticed that Leah magically appears back at my side.

I don't mind it as much as I normally would seeing that she's the only one I somewhat know (know being a word used loosely).

"That vehicle you're driving- it's loud."

I watch fascinated at her pale cheek grow dark blotches of a blush.

"I got it that way," she mumbles, looking down.

I shift slightly, being mindful of the pain pulsing constantly in my ankle.

"Can I look at it?" I ask, trying to hide my eagerness, but failing.

"My truck?" She seems surprised.

"Yeah- you wouldn't mind, right?" I start making my crippled self towards the door.

"Um," she rises, unsure. "I guess not."

My eyes eagerly take in the rusted red truck parked in the road. It's an old ugly thing that I affectionately name Monster in my head.

Bella pops the hood and stands back as I practically drool over the mangled insides. It's really a miracle that it runs.

I start chuckling at the prospect of a new project. I miss fixing and creating things. At camp, not a day would go by that I wouldn't be tinkering or inventing.

"Oh, this thing is shot," I tell the girl. "You need to fire whoever your mechanic is because it's truly amazing that Monster here can turn on."

A voice clears, drawing my attention briefly up from the trucks guts.

"I'm her mechanic," her boyfriend crosses his arms. I hadn't noticed that he and a few others had followed us outside.

"Does she pay you?"

"No." He frowns.

"Good." I turn back to Bella. "I can fix it for you if you get me the parts. It shouldn't take too long and the noise won't be there anymore."

"You know cars?" Leah asks, surprised.

"I know machines," I answer shortly before turning back to the pale girl. "What do you say?"

"Um," she glances apologetically at her boyfriend before offering me a small smile. "Sure, that'd be great."

"Awesome," I grin. "I'll get you the list of parts tomorrow; will you be here?"

"After school, yeah."

I eagerly go back to examining Monster's insides, taking note of some of the flaws and problems.

I guess I _will_ be staying for a little while longer. Just a few days. Then I'll be gone again and running without a plan.

Maybe I should go to Canada? The gods' reach doesn't extend over the border. None of the demigods would follow me there. I'd be safe. I could start a new life maybe away from gods and monsters and homicidal revenge seeking siblings.

It's funny that I'm back where I started five years ago, running away from home. Well, what was supposed to be a home- it was never really mine. I never considered any place mine until camp, but I ruined that.

"Mack."

I startle out of my thoughts, jerking my head up and, in the process, banging it on the propped up hood. I clutch the rusted edge of metal with one hand to steady myself while the other grasps my now throbbing skull as I glare harshly at my temporary roommate.

Leah offers a sheepish smile, and extends the pair of crutches she's been holding for me.

"I still haven't introduced you to everyone."

With a sigh, I take the offered supports and maneuver with growing expertise back towards the house.

Leah holds the door open for everybody as we file back in one by one.

* * *

 **A/N: So, I went to California... That was fun. Please review? How would you guys feel about a Leah POV next chapter?**

 **~Silver~**


	4. Chapter 4

Without Destiny

Chapter 4

 **Leah POV**

Before I knew that the stories my father told me as a child we're real, I loved Sam. I loved him since our first kiss when I was fifteen. I loved him when he chose Emily over me. And I loved him even as I was in his head and saw how much he loved her.

There was never anyone else that I noticed or felt things for; I thought he was the one until the day he broke up with me.

To me, imprinting ruined my life. I hated it for taking my boyfriend, and then the wolf goes on and makes me experience his thoughts and his feelings, what he was supposed to feel for _me_ , for my cousin.

But then _I_ imprinted.

In the stupid forest in the stupid rain on a stupid girl who expects me to believe that she was just hiking out there. And I felt stupid things the moment I met her eyes; I felt my gravity jolt out from under my feet like a rug was yanked.

And those stupid feeling and that stupid pull made me care about this stupid stranger, this girl, who stepped in a fucking bear trap of all things- and was crying and dirty and had blood puddling underneath her even as she glared at me.

And god, I never felt anything towards anyone except Sam, but she is gorgeous and stubborn and my imprint- and I don't want to care but I can't help it. I can't help the instant panic I felt when I realized that _my_ imprint was hurt and crying and dirty and had blood puddling underneath her even as she glared at me.

I didn't know her, she was a stupid girl who stepped in a fucking bear trap, but she was mine- I knew that much.

And she is so...frustrating. She is not what I imagined my imprint to be at all.

I still think that imprinting is ruining my life. I really think the fates are screwing with me or spitting on me or _something_ because this girl who is supposed to be the love of my life doesn't even like me.

And she's so fucking mysterious.

"So, where exactly am I? What state is this?"

Like what the fucking hell?!

I stare over my dinner at Mack, who is busy separating all her food (so they are not touching), bewildered.

"Washington. On a reservation just outside of a town called Forks." Her eyebrows rise in surprise. "Why, where are you from?"

She shrugs. "Just around."

So. Fucking. Mysterious. And not even the intriguing kind, but the exasperated 'she won't tell me anything!' kind. Okay, maybe I'm a little interested but it's more maddening than anything else.

I get that she's running away from something, but why? Is it just a fit of teenage rebellion or is something really wrong?

She finally starts to eat after all her food is in individual piles, just like she did the other night and for breakfast. I wonder if it's an OCD thing? She probably wouldn't tell me that much either.

"So, what are you running from?" I blurt. "Police? Mafia? Ex-boyfriend...? Ex- _girlfriend_?"

"Who says I'm running away from anything?" She rolls her eyes.

"The fact that I found you in the woods with a bear trap around your ankle, and that you don't even know what state you're in."

She scowls at the reminder of how we met. She scowls at me a lot. Then her expression drops into something that makes my stupid feelings once again _feel_ something for her in my chest.

"Let's just say that I have a complicated family," she sighs dejected.

I swallow at the unease that suddenly finds itself worming around in my gut.

"You mentioned your dad yesterday...?"

She sneers at her food before lifting her head and directing it at me.

"What is this- twenty questions? We're going to get deep and personal now, share our life woes? You're nice and everything for letting me stay a few days, so I say this in the nicest way possible: fuck off."

My fists clench. Because imprinting didn't screw me over enough, they gave me the broken connection with the most distrusting and defensive girl ever.

God I wish I had imprinted on anyone else. I immediately feel guilt at the thought, aggregating me even more.

"You know, you're kind of a bitch," I comment, struggling to keep my calm. One thing she's going to be good for is teaching me patience in not losing my temper so easily.

"Yup," she sighs, pushing her plate away and clearly signifying that she is finished eating.

"Are you going to finish that?" Seth breaks in, staring hopefully at the remains of Mack's dinner. He's been staying quiet so far, but with the prospect of extra food he just can't seem to help himself.

She smiles slightly at him, and frustration courses to the veins in my temple, throbbing in an ache there. Why won't she smile at _me_.

My eyes narrow in jealousy.

"Go ahead, Seth," she tells him kindly.

My brother eagerly pulls the plate towards him to devour the scraps, unmindful of the carefully formed sections of food.

"I'm kind of tired. May I be excused?" She asks me, and I'm surprised she even inquired. Everything about her so far has told me that she just does what she wants.

"Yeah," I sigh. "Let me get you some clothes so you can shower."

"Thanks," she says quietly, almost like she's embarrassed, and I realize something. Maybe it's not that she is ungrateful, but that she is ashamed for needing help to begin with. Since I first knelt next to her to open the bear trap, she has been insisting she can do everything herself, and then gets furious at me when she can't (and I have to help her).

This new hypothesis is disturbing in that nothing ever good could have happened as a reason someone is like that.

"Whatever," I mumble, shoving the items into her arms at the bathroom door, suddenly needing to get away and go for a run. Or talk to someone.

I make my way out the back door of the house and start stripping.

* * *

 **A/N: So, it's a short chapter but it gives some insight into Leah's perspective. I know I'm making Mack kind of mean but she's not very good with emotions and coping. Her thing is kind of lashing out which is what got her into this mess.**

 **Anyway, please review; let me know what you think.**

 **~Silver~**


	5. Chapter 5

Without Destiny

Chapter 5

I grunt as I finally yank the crushed orange soda can free from the engine, and stare at it strangely. Then I toss it to the ground and wipe my hands down the front of the jeans I'm borrowing. Black grease stains are left behind.

Shoving my sleeves farther up my arms, I reach for a wrench.

"How'd you get those?" Bella asks, leaning against the right headlight. She has been hovering since I first popped the hood but this is the first times she's actually said anything.

I follow her curious eyes to the scatter of pearly white circular scars.

I stare at the blemishes a moment, expressionless.

 _"Mackenzie!" I jolt awake at the shout, and when the banging on the door starts a moment later, I leap out of bed._

 _"Mackenzie, get your lazy ass out of bed and take the trash out!"_

 _"Coming!" I call, scrambling to put on clean clothes and shove my small feet into my sneakers. Once the heavy footsteps fade, I cautiously open the creaky door and peak into the hall._

 _Shuffling is heard farther down, in the kitchen, and the door to the refrigerator slams shut. Only when the heavy body of my foster mother settles into an armchair do I move in that direction._

 _I swiftly enter the cluttered kitchen, immediately scooping fast food wrappers and brown bottles into the already full trash bin. When the bag is bulging and the counters cleared, I slowly move into the next room._

 _I immediately choke on the cloud of smoke that is so thick that the only thing I can see is the floor and flashing lights from the television._

 _"Mrs. Frances?" I call softly._

 _A shadow shifts and more fog puffs out into the room. "Are you done yet, girl? Get me another beer."_

 _I immediately duck back into the kitchen and open the fridge to pull out the cursed drink. Then I blindly shuffle through the smoky cloud to where the heavyset woman relaxes, and she snatches the drink from my hand before I can offer it to her._

 _I duck beneath the cigarette smoke to start collecting the bottles already empty and littering the floor._

 _"Open a window!" She shouts suddenly and I immediately jerk to my feet, bottles in arm and rush to the screen to shove it wide._

 _One of the carefully balanced bottles teeters and fall. I wince as it crashes into the wood, scattering shards._

 _There is silence, then, "Bastard child! Get over here!"_

 _Terrified, I surge forward, wringing my fingers as I stop just beside the chair._

 _"Give me your arm."_

 _I hesitate. I don't want to give Mrs. Francis my arm. She snatched my wrist and jerks me forward so hard my belly rams into the armrest._

 _A searing pain races along my arm, and I try as hard as I can to pull away, but the woman just tightens her grip and grinds the burning stump of her cigarette harder into my arm._

 _A scream rips itself from my lips the next second I can't free myself, tears streaming tracks down my cheeks._

 _Only then does she let go, and I immediately fly backwards to my butt_.

 _"Clean that up," she growls, unmoved by my sobs._

I raise my eyes from the scars to acknowledge the pale mortal. "I was a clumsy child," I say somewhat truthfully.

She nods with a look of empathetic understanding.

"So how do you know how to do this stuff?" She questions as I start draining the oil to give it a change. I swipe my dirty hand across my brow, uncaring of the smudges it leaves behind.

"It's in my blood," I scowl. "It comes second nature to me, and I like to understand how things work."

I replug the hole once it's all drained and carefully pour the new oil in.

"How do you know Jacob?" I change the subject.

"Our dads are best friends. We used to play together when I was little whenever I visited. My mom lives in Phoenix."

I nod along.

"When did you start dating?"

"Dating?" Her face screws up in a grimace. "Goss, no- we're just friends."

I raise my eyes slightly. "Does he know that?"

"No," a new voice says, and I jerk, swinging around to face the silent arrival, painful tingles running along my arms from the spook. Nothing ever good happens when I'm snuck up on, and I scowl at the perpetrator.

Leah offers an apologetic smile, scratching the back of her neck.

"Hey, Mack," she says, for some reason, somewhat nervously. "Everybody is going down to the beach in an hour or so- do you want to come? Emily says that your stitches should be fine if you want to get in the water, as long as you let her clean them afterwards."

"I hate the ocean," I tell her, dismissively, thinking of the Sea god and how he and any of the other deities would love any chance to kill me.

"You-" she takes a step closer before thinking better, and shuffling back to her original position by the left headlight. "You don't have to get in the water. Just hang out on the sand?"

I look back at her slowly, scrutinizing her hopeful expression, failing at trying to seem nonchalant.

She wants me to go, I realize, baffled. After all my shouting and resistance and free loading off her and her friend's and family, she still wants to spend time with me?

I bite my lip uncertainty, before giving a jerky nod.

"Alright," I relent, quickly turning away to fiddle with more parts, and suddenly feeling as nervous as my housemate looks.

I see her wide smile from the corner of my eye.

"Great! We can get you something at one of the shops on our way there."

I bite my bottom lip again, feeling guilt for how I've been treating her. Sure she's annoying and pushy, but she's only trying to help.

"Thanks," I mutter, burying my head farther under the hood and out of sight.

There is a pause, and then she sighs and walks away, up towards Emily's house.

When I hear the door open, I lift my head and look over, chewing my bottom lip raw.

"I'm confused." I snap my head in Bella's direction, having forgotten that she was standing there. I raise my eyebrows in question to her statement. "Do you like her or not?"

I scowl. "Not," I snap, turning back to the miracle engine.

...

I tug at my shorts with a frown, looking over to the other bodies, bare chested and laughing as they mill around. There is an urge to just undress- Leah did indeed buy me a swimsuit at one of the small shops- but this is not camp.

This is not friends and family who know how a demigod's life is, and who are not strangers to scars.

So I keep my basketball shorts and my T-shirt on. I sit awkwardly, out of place, on a towel, staring out at the ocean as the other large people converse and joke.

I used to like the ocean, the colors, the smell. I liked that it couldn't be controlled or manipulated, which is strange for a child of Hephaestus, before I found out that it _is_ controlled. I used to like to swim, until my brother sank a boat, fighting _for_ the gods, and drowned.

This water is grey; this sky is grey, and they bleed together with no horizon except the sandy one at my feet.

Two drops of water is the only warning I get before hands grab me. On either side, grips of steel latch at the bend of my knees and under my armpits at my shoulders, lifting.

I gasp, jerking in their holds, trying to twist myself free. Their clutches are like steel traps, restraining me.

"Put me down!" I snarl at the giggling boys, wading with me into the water. I yank on my limbs in rage, paying no mind to the bruises being formed, but somehow, my struggling does nothing. I hate being touched. "Let go! I swear to gods, I'm going to-"

I suck in a sharp breath of air, as my stomach drops, that mixes with the salt water that floods into my mouth and up my nose.

My heart pounds as the noises of the outside world are shut off into silence and the ringing of the ocean. I kick against the water, pushing myself to the surface. My head breaks, hacking on the water.

Fury melts into fear as I scramble in the waves, toes just skimming the bottom, toward the shore.

A slow tingling burn races across my shins, and I recognize the feeling as that of a jellyfish.

I paddle as hard as I'm able, jumping, trying as hard as I can to fight against the tide trying to pull me out to sea- out to my death.

When the water gets to my hips, and I start to feel relief, something wraps around my ankle and tugs.

The shore disappears, and I inhale the ocean once more.

* * *

 **A/N: So, a little insight into Mack's past before camp. She, like many demigods, was in foster care. This particular flashback was quite a few years before she found camp.**

 **Please review and let me know what you think, and I hope you guys liked this chapter.**

 **~Silver~**


	6. Chapter 6

Without Destiny

Chapter 6

Silence swallows me except for the ringing in my ears and the fast thud of my heart. My fingers scrape along the sand, digging and scrambling for something to grab on to, something to keep me from being dragged out to sea.

My eyes burn as I force them open, twisting as the hand on my leg continues to tug, and I meet the angry gaze of a naiad.

I kick out at the ocean spirit, and she bubbles angrily as my foot connects solidly with her face, effectively knocking her back slightly. Before she can lunge at me again, hands are pulling me to the surface.

I hack and choke, a never-ending stream of salt water pouring from my lungs and eyes. My savior tugs me closer, farther out of the water, and I can only stumble blindly, coughing as the ocean's pull on my clothes eventually becomes nonexistent.

My eyes continue to stream from the salt, and my throat feels raw, but water finally stops coming up.

I tug at my drenched clothes, hating how they cling and constrict my movements, before just tearing it off when we reach the shore.

The person who saved me gasps, and I turn sluggishly.

Leah stares.

"Thanks," I mumble.

She marches right past me to the small crowed.

"Leah," one of the boys who threw me in says worriedly, raising his hands and backing away. "Leah, I'm sorry- I swear I didn't mean-"

I gape as she twists expertly, throwing her fist with enough power to put anyone down. The boy collapses, but she doesn't stop; she follows him to the ground, raining punches.

The large men do nothing to stop it, only watching grimly as she finally turns, and lunges at the other boy who had been giggling as he walked me into the waves.

I've never seen anyone this _angry_. It's kind of terrifying.

 _And her anger is for me,_ I think, glancing down at my body. Large red handprints encase my upper arms.

But those will fade, I know, with time.

Because I discarded my shirt, my scars are fully displayed. White and faded, pink and puckered, and one along my rips (from the war) scabbed and flaking.

With a shaky sigh, I shuck off my shorts and reach for my towel, snapping it to get the sand off. I turn back to the fight, a beating really, wrapping it around myself.

Leah finally steps away, wiping seawater from her jaw, and I find myself staring.

She turns to me, and her eyes still hold an anger I'm familiar with, but she offers only me a small smile.

"Are you okay?" She demands, and I have a feeling that if I say 'no,' she'll turn right around and starts beating the moaning boys again.

It makes me feel...good. Special.

I've never in my life felt that way before, even at camp. At first I was just another kid abused by the foster system, then I was just another product of the gods selfishness. Right now, I don't feel like 'just another' anything.

To my horror, my cheeks burn under her intense stare, causing her eyes to slowly widen.

"Yeah- I'm- fine," I stammer, quickly looking away and cursing myself. I haven't stammered since I was a kid. I clutch my towel tighter to myself, wishing to just go back to the house and wash the ocean smell from my skin. My stomach rolls with all the salt water I swallowed.

Seeming to read my mind, Leah bends downs to collect her things and the fallen food (what she had originally left my side to get) in the sand.

"I think I'm going to turn in early. You?"

"Yeah," I nod, quickly collecting my soggy clothes, now plastered with sand.

As we pass, I hear Sam berating Paul and Embry, and I smile.

"I'm really sorry about them," Leah says after a long while, looking at me earnestly.

"We make our own choices. You don't need to apologize for them," I tell her truly meaning it. I made my choice in the war. It was a hateful choice, and it was the wrong one. It cost me everything.

There is a weighted silence, and I try to ignore her unwavering gaze on the side of my face.

Finally, she opens her mouth. "I have to ask, even though I know you probably won't answer, but I'm going to anyway-"

I stiffen, but it's expected. After all, what teenager walks around covered in mutilated flesh?

"Your scars..."

I think about deflecting; she already expects me to, but I just can't dredge up the motivation.

"I was a foster kid. Not a lot of people were kind to kids like me, even the families I was placed with."

From the corner of my eye, I watch her fists clench. I know she must have suspected- the abuse at least; anyone would seeing the scars. But not all of them are from my foster homes, not even half of them. Most come from monsters and training mishaps, and whenever someone wants to try to kill me.

To a demigod, they are survival marks. To a mortal, they make you seem damaged, and for some reason, I don't want this annoying nosy girl to see me that way, even if it might be true.

"And that's why you ran way," she concludes, certain. I don't correct her because it is true in a way. I just ran away long before last week. It's not what I'm running away from now.

What I'm running from now could potentially be much worse.

When I reach the house, I immediately go into the bathroom and close the door. As the shower hisses, I take a deep shaky breath, focusing on the burn in my lungs, the scratchiness of my throat, and the tingling pain from the jellyfish.

 _Remember this_ , I tell myself. _Feel it and don't forget. You are the only one to blame- you betrayed them._

I rise from the toilet seat, dropping my towel and stepping into the warm spray. It feels good, and I turn my head up into it.

...

Leah's POV

Embry and Paul are idiots. Morons. Dead. At least they would have been if Mack weren't there. They are luck I _didn't_ kill them right there.

If it were Emily, Sam would have killed them. If it were Rachel, Jared would have killed them.

My imprint. _My_ imprint. Why would they think it a good idea to throw her in the water? They _bruised_ her trying to play this prank- she almost _drowned_.

I'm going to kill them. They're lucky I didn't already. I have every right to kill the according to the old laws.

And her scars...

No wonder she is running, no wonder she is so distrusting and defensive, no wonder she doesn't like accepting help.

It's the way she was trained.

I'm going to kill Paul and Embry for touching her; you don't touch someone else's imprint- everyone knows that.

Not only did they bruise her, but they could have ruined it for me- made her want to leave- she's already not planning on staying.

Instead of leaving, though, she opened up. It was just a little bit, but she gave me a real answer to my question. She didn't deflect like she normally does.

I'm getting somewhere, right? I must be.

I'm still going to kill those idiot boys, though.

* * *

 **A/N: Please review!**

 **~Silver~**


	7. Chapter 7

Without Destiny

Chapter 7

I halt entering my borrowed room when I find it already occupied. My grip tightens on my towel, for a moment, self-consciously hoisting it higher as Leah blinks in surprise at me, like she had not expected to see me here.

For a moment, her eyes flicker down, taking in my attire before her whole face seems to heat and she twirls away to face to opposite wall.

Feeling awkward but oddly warm, I continue moving, limping, into the room.

"Ah, sorry!" My host stammers staring straight forward until she realizes that she is staring straight into a mirror. I raise an eyebrow at her as she somehow becomes even more clumsy, knocking into the dresser as she hurries to once again turn her eyes away.

I drop my towel unconcerned for her awkwardness and yank my old camp shirt over my head. My hair spikes up messily as I run the towel harshly through it, before turning to face the fidgeting girl.

"What is it?" I ask, and she starts to turn, stiffens, and jerks back away.

I roll my eyes.

"I'm covered; you can look."

She turns slowly like she doesn't quite believe me. I'm amazed at how dark her face is, and how it actually looks fairly nice contrasted with her tanned skin.

She seems to relax upon discovering that I was indeed telling the truth, and that my private bits are covered.

"I, uh, just wanted to make sure you really were alright. Here."

He arm jerks out suddenly, thrusting a glass of water at me. A bit slips over the lip and splashes onto the carpet. She winces.

My lips quirk up into a tiny smile at her bumbling awkwardness as I gently take the offering from her. She's actually kind of endearing when she's not yelling at me or trying to boss me around. Kind of cute, too.

I shake that last thought away quickly. Now is definitely not the time to be paying attention to my hormones.

I take a sip from the water, sighing as it soothes my raw throat.

"And, uh, Emily asked me to redress your foot and make sure it was cleaned." She lifts her other hand, revealing rubbing alcohol and a roll of gauze.

I hesitate only a moment before huffing and maneuvering onto the bed.

She works in silence, not once looking up at me- which is just fine. It gives me time to study her features. Pretty. But tense. Her movements are purposefully now, but her entire body seems strung like a wire, ready to snap with a minimal amount of pressure.

"Leah," I call after she collected her supplies, and she pauses at the door. She glances back at me. "... Thank you. For this. And for earlier at the beach." It comes out halting and awkward, but she smiles after a moment of surprise flickers across her features.

"Any time," she responds and then she's gone.

...

"Mack...! Mack!"

I jerk awake, rocketing upward in bed with a gasp. My hand snaps out at the dark figure looming over me and I twist hard, hand at their throat and my breathing coming in sharp pulls of air.

"Erhg! _Mack_! It's just me!"

My heart pounds in lingering terror, and it takes me a moment to realize that I'm no longer dreaming.

My hand loosens from my non attacker's throat, while the other shakily drops Morph that had been prepared to spring open right through her carotid artery.

"S-sorry," I stammer, shuffling to climb off of my host.

Leah sits up slowly, rubbing subconsciously at her neck.

"You were screaming in your sleep," she informs me, pale but strangely calm for almost having her throat ripped out.

"Right," I bob my head, reaching for the glass of water of the desk and draining the rest of its contents. "Next time just jab me with a stick. It might be safer for you to wake me up that way."

She's silent long enough for me to look back up at her. She studies me, perched in the middle of my bed, feet folded underneath her.

"Do you get nightmares like that often?"

"Every night," I reply dryly. "Though normally I manage not to make any noises."

The concern is clear on her expression, but I chose to ignore it as I set the glass back down of the desk.

"Well, thank you for waking me. You can still probably get a few more hours of sleep if you get back to bed now."

She doesn't move for a minute. Then, slowly, she unfolds her legs and climbs from the spot I had pinned her to.

"I take it you don't want to talk about it." I blink blankly at her until she sighs. "Right. Didn't think so. Well, if you change your mind don't hesitate to wake me up. G'night."

I sigh shakily as the door closes, finally letting my emotions play across my face. My hands shake as they go to push my hair back out of my face.

I hate that memory. It's still fresh and raw- a gaping wound on my mental stability.

Seeing my friends die, my family's blood staining my hands, my old camp charging to meet me in battle, not like in our games back at camp but intending to separate my head or intestines from my body.

We had talked about our doubts, or regrets for turning traitor to our home, but I was so angry at my father, at the gods, and my fatal flaw is that I hate admitting when I'm wrong. So I fought with the titan lord, I ignored the wrongness in my guts, and I admitted my mistake too late.

My nine-year-old sister lay dead at my feet, slain by the monsters I had been fighting alongside- that I had been raised to kill.

Alison, my best friend, has her stomach sliced open, propped against an overturned car and bleeding out. Mason is missing, maybe already dead- or running. We had talked about running, but I wanted to follow through with my choice and they were going to stand with me.

Oh how I regretted it as I looked around at the ongoing battles- demigod against demigod, demigod against monster, demigod against death.

Luke- Luke who convinced me to join Kronos- is dead. Taken over by the titan lord himself. Everything is gone. I ruined everything. Even if I switch sides now I'd never be accepted back into camp. I'm a traitor to Olympus.

So, I take up my fallen Morph and run away from all the killing, all the death, all the mistakes of children who just wanted the attention of their parent. I turn away, again, from the last ones who trusted me- leaving them to be slaughtered by our godly family.

I blink back the vivid images of blood and death, the sounds of battle and pain, and my hand comes up to my mouth to muffle the sound of a sob. The stinging influx of tears forces my eyes shut, and my quaking body tries to turn in on myself.

I brace one hand against the dresser, the other pressing painfully over my mouth, and trying desperately to not make a sound.

My sister- my little sister! I was teaching her how to forge a sword just days before the battle. I tutored her in Ancient Greek and myths. I should have protected her, not turned my weapon against the only home I've ever known.

My legs finally give out and I collapse to the floor, leaning heavily into the dresser as silent, choking, sobs shake my body.

Gods... it hurts so much...

I _hate_ them... but I hate me more.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, any ideas for what comes next? I know kind of where I want to go but I don't know how to get there. Thank you guys so much for your patients; please review!**

 **~Silver~**


	8. Chapter 8

Without Destiny

Chapter 8

A week later, I find myself waking up in the same bed, sweating buckets, and feeling completely lost. I had finished Bella's truck days ago and now I walk with only a slight pain every step, but I'm still here.

Mrs. Clearwater must be getting tired of me by now, though Leah keeps assuring me that I'm welcome to stay as long as I want. The way she talks makes it seems like she would be perfectly happy if I just moved in.

I feel like I might be taking advantage of her little crush, but something keeps me here on this small rainy reservation.

Probably the complete loss of purpose and no plan or idea of what to do next. I had turned my back on everyone and everything that I know.

What do you do with that? Where does a 16-year-old go when your kin might be hunting you as you lay there like a little princess, safe and sound in a bed with three meals a day laid out in front of you. You can understand my reluctance to leave this temporary safety.

I make it to the bathroom feeling groggy as I peel my sweat soaked shirt from my body. I probably made their water bill go up as well with how many showers I've been taking, but I just don't like feeling dirty. I spent enough of my life in an almost perpetual amount of time in a state of grime.

"Hey," Leah looks up with a smile as I enter the kitchen, pushing a bowl at me and the box of cereal. "So, I was thinking maybe we could get you some actual clothes today, so you don't have to keep borrowing. I don't mind but I feel like you would want something of your own."

I pour a bowl of cereal, gratefully taking the jug of milk as she passes it to me. Discomfort and guilt keep my eyes trained on my breakfast.

Leah's crush is cute most of the time, but she is always offering too much.

"You're going to make me a kept woman if you keep throwing gifts at me like this." More kept than I already am at least.

I curse myself as I glance up to see her blush.

"Look, I really appreciate all you've done for me, but I think it's about time I take off."

Panic floods her face. "But- your foot-"

"Emily is taking the stitches out today, and I hardly feel the pain anymore," I try to soothe her, feeling more and more guilty and uncomfortable as her expression borders on despair.

"Where will you even go?"

I shrug, non-committedly, not voicing my thoughts on Canada.

"O-okay," she says shakily, now not meeting my eyes as she fiddles with her thumbs. "I uh- I'll see you later; I have to get to work. Just... just don't leave without saying goodbye, okay?"

She doesn't wait for me to answer, heading for the door and regret makes me open my mouth. "Leah..." She pauses, turn her body half way to me. "Never mind. I'll see you later."

She bobs her head and disappears, leaving me with the guilty feeling that I'm a bad girlfriend and I've done something wrong. Which is ridiculous considering we aren't even dating, and I barely know the girl. Maybe it's just that I hate owing people and this girl has done a lot for me, without even knowing me (though not for a lack of trying).

With a sigh, I start on my cereal, wondering what I should do today while I wait for the older girl to get back. She's left to work before, leaving me to entertain myself, and now their stove is working better than ever, their bathroom faucet is no longer leaking, and the lights in the basement that flicker no matter how many times you change the light bulb, shines with clear intensity. Anything that might have been less than perfect in this house is fixed to perfection under my careful idle hands. Now there is nothing left to do.

As I dry my bowl and put it in its proper place, I decide that I do not need to wait for Leah to get back to take me to Emily's. I know the way and she is not my keeper. So, with a reassuring pat of my pocket to make sure my faithful weapon is on me, I start out the door and down the dirt road. I quickly tug my hood up when I realize how hard the rain is coming down.

Emily smiles when she opens the door for me, ushering me in and taking my soaked jacket to hang and dry.

"Mack, I wasn't expecting you until later."

I shrug awkwardly. "Well, Leah has stuff to do and I'm out of things to fix so here I am. I'm also kind of anxious to get these stupid stitches out of my foot."

"Have a seat," she waves towards the well-used couch. "I'll go get my things."

This house is familiar now with the amount of time I've spent in it, and I've become a little more accustomed to the other woman who is almost always here or outside in the garden. It seems that most of her time is spent cooking for the dozen huge boys coming and going from the house as if it's their own.

Emily ambles back into the room and reaches for my foot as I prop it into her lap. She talks causally as she works.

"Has Leah mentioned the bonfire we are having tomorrow night?"

"Uh, no."

"Well, she will probably ask you to come later. It's not anything fancy- just some food and the elders telling our old legends. She's been excited for you to hear them."

"I uh- I guess I can stay until then."

Emily pauses in her work, only halfway through cutting the stitches. The scar is pink and angry looking, but it's healing faster than a normal human- my godly blood at work no doubt.

"Until then?"

"I figure it's about time to head out. I do appreciate all you've done for me though."

She slowly starts back to work.

"Does Leah know you're planning on leaving so soon?"

"Yeah, I told her this morning."

She hums in acknowledgement, snipping the last stitch. "Well, there you go. All better."

"Thanks," I mumble, placing my foot on the ground and tugging my plant leg down.

With another smile, she stands up and meanders back into the kitchen.

"Hey, you got anything that needs fixing?" I call after her.

...

It's not my smartest idea to crouch on the roof, in the middle of a hurricane, trying to fix a satellite dish. In fact, it's probably on a completely different type of list of things I've done: just below 'join Kronos.'

But ADHD does strange things to a demigod; it makes them desperate for entertainment. So, I sneak out of the house when Emily is not looking, just somehow knowing she wouldn't approve, and scale my way up to the roof with the rain plastering my hair and clothes and wind beating at my back.

I become disappointed when I discover nothing actually wrong with the dish- one of the wires just came loose. I fix it quickly before tilting my head back and letting the rain poor over my face. I almost lose my balance, looking up into the dark sky that stretches in all directions. It's disorienting. But I've come to have great balance and immediately orient myself by bringing my eyes back down to earth.

In time to see Two figures come out of the tree line.

The male hurries faster to catch up with Leah, tugging a soaked shirt over his head (and I briefly wonder why as all the boys seem to like walking around half naked anyway). He (I still can't make out who he is- they all look the same to me) grabs Leah's arm, causing her to whirl to face him. I then become aware that she is angry. Really angry. She shoves the boy, shaking so hard that I briefly worry she's having a seizure.

The boy raises his hands in a placating gesture but it's too late- she bursts into a huge a wolf.

 _"_ _Fuck!_ _"_

I fall off the roof.

My foot slides out from underneath me, my shoulder hits the shingles, but the rough texture does little to slow my steep slide. The only reason I don't end up breaking my neck on the ground below is because I managed to awkwardly snag the gutter and put my feet back underneath me before freefalling to the squishy flowerbed below.

A white-hot fire races up my ankle at contact before soothing to a pulsing ache.

Both human and giant wolf head turn to stare at me.

" _Lycanthropy_ _."_ I hiss, both from the pain in my ankle and for being a fool. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck!"_ Lycanthropes. Of course. That's why there have been no monster attacks and why they are so huge and hot to the touch. I had to go and land myself in the middle of a pack of lycanthropes.

Leah's ears flick back to lay flat on her huge head.

I lurch painfully feet when she makes to step toward me, limping a step or two before becoming accustomed to the pain and dash towards the door to the house.

A bone chilling howl goes up- and I just know that the rest of the pack will be arriving soon.

I snatch Emily around the arm and start yanking her towards the front door, unable to leave her here to the mercy of the wolves.

"Mack? What are you...?"

"We have to go," I tell her urgently, snatching her car keys off the kitchen counter.

She resists so much that I have to stop and turn to face her.

"Mack, what is going on?"

"We don't have time for this!" I tug her hard, making her stumble a step forward, towards freedom, towards where we might have a chance of outrunning a pack of beasts. "You've been kept here by monsters, but I can get you out of here- keep you safe- don't worry; I can protect you."

Her eyes widen in horror. "Oh, Mack, no-"

The front door bursts in, along with the back, and a half dozen shirtless men surround us, Leah at the front.

I glare at her, unable to help feeling hurt- betrayed- for her being this monster. This is what my siblings, my camp, felt when they realized that I turned my back on the gods. It must be. It hurts a surprising amount even as terror burns in my veins. I've never fought against this many monsters before- I'm not Percy Jackson.

Regardless of my fear, my certain doom, I jerk Emily behind me, backing us up so that I can see everyone flooding the kitchen.

"Mack," Leah implores me, hands out in a peaceful gesture that I don't for one second trust. "Just calm down..."

They must be followers of Kronos, keeping me here, unaware, until backup arrived. I did abandon him too, after all.

"I can't believe I trusted you," I spit at her, horrified to find my eyes burning like they do before I cry. I wrestle them back with all of my will. Monsters feel no sympathy for tears. Just like my foster parents. "I knew better- I _knew_ better. Gods, I'm so stupid," I growl, gripping Morph hard in my hand, not yet calling him forth. If I want to get out of here, I need to do something soon. There's no way I can get out of this if the rest of the pack show up.

"Mack," Leah's voice breaks. "Just let me explain."

"I don't want to hear it!" I scream at her, even though if she is talking, they aren't attacking.

Why aren't they attacking?

I flinch when Emily grips my shoulder, having forgot about her. The poor human must be terrified and confused.

"Mack, you need to let her explain. It's not what you think."

I can't help pulling my eyes away from the lycan, to stare incredulously at the human.

"You knew what they are?" She nods slowly, studying my face.

 _Stockholm Syndrome_ , the word comes to me from the recesses of my mind. She must have Stockholm Syndrome from being trapped here for so long. But why would they keep her?

My eyes land on the large butcher knife she had been using to cut vegetables for the pack's dinner. Have they, have I, been eating human meat like Lycaon tried to trick Zeus into eating?

My stomach rolls at the thought. I was already going to the fields of punishment, now I'm definitely going to Tartarus where Kronos can get his hands on me and torture me himself for all eternity. This must have been the plan.

My head spins dizzyingly, hardly believing that even with all the conclusions I'm coming to, I'm still reeling about the hurt I feel because of Leah.

I release Morph in my pocket and snatch the knife from the countertop, pressing the blade up under Emily's chin while twirling her to face the wolves and hide my body.

If they've kept her this long; maybe they wouldn't want to hurt her.

The reaction is immediate. Sam, who had been calm and placating and allowing Leah to take the lead, snarls at me.

His arms vibrate at his sides like Leah's did before she morphed.

"Get back!" I shout over his snarls.

Jared and Embry pull him backwards, keeping firm hands on his arms.

"Mack," Leah tries again.

"Everybody get back or I swear to the gods...!" I hold Emily tighter to make my threat clear. I just need to get her away from them and maybe she'll realize that she can be safe and doesn't need to stay with them.

They shuffle backwards, Sam growling and glaring and vibrating.

Maybe he really does love her.

The thought comes unexpectedly, impossibly, and I force it away as I inch my way around the room with their cook and back my way towards the front door.

Leah watches helplessly, eyes wide and wild as I push the door open and shuffle backwards down the steps with the car keys clutched in my white knuckles.

My heart pounds, almost allowing myself to feel relief, almost allowing myself to think that I made it, when something hard blows me across the back of my head and my world turns sideways before it blinks into darkness.

* * *

 **A/N: Ooohoohoo! Finally some action going. What do you think? The reveal dramatic enough for you? You think it's a reasonable reaction?**

 **Please review!**

 **~Silver~**


	9. Chapter 9

Without Destiny

Chapter 9

 **Leah's POV**

Oh god, oh god, oh god, what am I going to do? No one's imprint has ever reacted like this when they've found out.

Disbelief- yes, locking themselves in their house for a week- yes, but not putting a knife to my cousin's throat- nothing so fearful, no one so sure that we are monsters.

Then again she didn't grow up hearing our legends, or with us, or have anything holding her here on this reservation to keep her from trying to skip town like she had been planning to do way before finding out she's been staying with someone who turns into a giant wolf.

I already knew she doesn't trust easily, and she'll never trust me now- not after this disaster.

I just don't have enough time- there is no amount of time with her that would have been enough. Maybe if she had just made it to the bonfire tomorrow she would have taken it better- instead of seeing me shift and then falling off a roof (for whatever reason she was on it).

I moan in despair as Seth fidgets nervously over her crumpled body that looks so small at his feet, getting plastered with rain.

Sam has Emily wrapped safely in his arms, but he still glares at my unconscious imprint in a way that I don't like.

I growl at him before quickly rushing to the girl, ignoring my skittish brother who no doubt thinks that I'd hurt him for knocking my imprint over the head. But he has given me exactly what I needed- a little bit more time.

So, I just scoop the soaked girl into my arms and shoulder my way through the pack and into the house. I can't help but think about how much she would never forgive me for carrying her like this in front of the others, but who cares about that right now? She already thinks I'm a monster.

Lycanthropy, she called it. A werewolf. And those myths are not very flattering.

 **Mack's POV**

I am not a strong demigod. I am not a gifted demigod. I am not the best at anything and I don't have a skill that nobody else can do. I don't beat the lava wall every time, I am not my cabin's councilor, and I have never played a major role in capture the flag.

I am an average demigod with average skills and whose best creation is the weapon that turns into many weapons. It might seem impressive to those not a child of Hephaestus, but my siblings are far more cleaver and build far more inventive things. I'm more of a tinkerer, a fixer, than an inventor.

And I am not a favorite of my father's. I don't even resemble him.

But even the most average demigod is not dumb enough to have somehow gotten themselves in this situation- living with and then knocked out by lycanthropes who like to eat children (which I still am if we are going by my apparent mental capacity).

At first, I'm confused because it's the first time in a while that I've come into consciousness without a jolt of fear bolting me up in bed. Instead, it's a slow process with a groggy mind and languid movements as I stretch out in the warm sheets. In my confusion, I believe that I am back home, safe in my cabin at camp, surrounded by my family.

But it doesn't smell like metal and fire and the forges, and when I open my eyes, reality crashes down around me.

I sit up slowly, schooling my features even as I wonder why I'm not waking up in the underworld, but one of Emily's spare bedrooms. My eyes instantly fall on Leah who sits across from me in a chair, head lowered and in her hands.

I push my fingers through my hair, noting that it's still damp from the rain, and then frantically pat at my pockets- my dry empty pockets. I freeze when my eyes land on Morph, on the dresser just to my right (well in reach).

My brow furrows in confusion. Why didn't the lycanthropes not relieve me of my weapon? All monsters recognize celestial bronze.

"Emily changed you," Leah informs, drawing my attention back to her. She looks very tired sitting there in that chair, and very vulnerable. I can easily snatch my weapon and lunge at her, turning her to dust before she can even twitch.

It must be some trap, I decide, leaving my weapon where it is and leaning back into the pillows for now.

"Take a peak?" I can't help snarking meanly, frustrated at myself beyond belief for falling for her act of having a crush on me.

She recoils, looking wounded, and I have to remind myself that she is an amazing actress. She got me to actually like her. That's hard to get me to allow myself to do.

"No."

I shake off the false guilt that wants to rise up, so I glare at her instead. "What do you want?"

"Just to explain. For you to listen. Then if you still want to go, you can. We won't stop you again."

I bark out a disbelieving laugh. Monsters don't just let you go. Usually though, they just attack after they find out who you are. I've never heard of one to embellish the story and keep pretending before.

"Alright then," I play along. "Go ahead."

"Well," she hesitates, "as you probably figured out, we turn into wolves."

"Yeah," I can't help halting her. "I've been wondering about that. I didn't know lycanthropes fully turned into wolves. I thought it was just a humanoid creature."

She gives me a look for interrupting but answers anyway.

"We aren't werewolves like the myths. We are called Shifters, and we were originally spirit warriors who could leave their bodies and performed Magic's to protect the tribe from outside forces..."

I can't help being sucked into her story of spirit warriors and wolves and vampires. And love. It's a love story too, I realize in the end with the third wife. I absolutely love myths and stories, but this one isn't Greek.

Not at any point was there a reference to the Greek world or gods. Could it be that there are myths separate from it? That these 'Shifters' are not the children of Lycaon of the Greek legends? That they are protectors as she says- not murderers?

It's possible. But it's also something I am unwilling to risk. Why would they tell me this story if it were true, why not just let me go- disappear and not ever see me again. What harm can a runaway mortal, that they think me to believe if this is true, do even if I did tell someone?

"Is that all?" I ask, face as stoic as when she first began her tale. She seems to deflate at my lack of reaction.

"No, uh, just one more thing. There's something that we do- Imprinting. It's kind of like love at first sight except...not." She sighs, looking resigned and truly miserable. I feel genuinely bad for this girl, because a part of me can't help believing her words, her culture, and I am just constantly writing her off. "We don't know why or what causes a wolf to imprint. Some think it's a gift from our ancestors as a reward for protecting the tribe, some think that it's to tie us more firmly to humanity so that we don't completely turn ourselves over to the wolf, and some think that it's to help the wolf reproduce with someone whose genes can carry the wolf gene, but that one's kind of debunked because, well, I Imprinted on you, so..."

My eyes widen at this news, rightly shocked. I believe it now, that these are not Ancient Greek creatures. But this is definitely Aphrodite's doing. I wonder, in the back of my mind, what this girl could have done to anger the goddess to punish her in this way.

"If this is real, then I am sincerely sorry, because anyone who loves me can only be destined for pain."

I then snatch Morph up into my hand and stride out the door.

The paranoid part of me still half expects all of this to all just be some hoax, that they won't actually let me leave and are just waiting for more monsters to come, but the pack of Shifters in the living room, and Emily, only watch as I pass them and shrug on my jacket before shouldering my way back out into the rain. None of them make a move to stop me, and that's how I know that everything that Leah has told me is true.

Something pulls at me, screams at me, to just turn around and go back. The damn Imprint maybe, or the lure of safety. Monsters appear to steer clear of the wolves' territory, maybe I could just live there without being bothered by my past. But I know that if I stay, I will only bring my past _too_ the Shifters.

And if I allowed myself to admit it (which I don't), I do kind of like Leah, but I would never wish my life on her (or anyone).

So even with my regret trying to tug me back, my stubbornness keeps my feet moving forward- my fatal flaw working at its best.

They are following me. I can feel them following, see a tail disappear behind a bush every now and then, for miles. I walk a long time in the rain, following the endless road with a pack of wolves on either side, but I ignore them, and they leave me be. Escorting me, is what I decide they are doing because when I pass a sign that helpfully informs me that I am leaving the reservation, they stop trailing me and I truly am alone for the first time in over a week.

It's a little bit daunting, and I am again without supplies. Again, having left with only my weapon in my pocket and my clothes on my back. I feel struck when I realize that my camp shirt is back at Leah's house, but I don't try to return to grab it.

I do, however, wince remembering my snide comment asking if she peeked while my clothes were being changed. It's cruel, really, now that I know she is somehow in love with me due to something the goddess of love cursed her with.

She might just be the worst Olympian to piss off. She won't just smite you, ending your life- no she can go after your heart.

She might seem all happy, lovey-dovey, and laid back, but I'd bet my weapon that she can be the cruelest of the twelve.

A distant howl, full of heartbreak, makes me wince at the proof.

Love- of a romantic origin- can't be trusted because of her. Her children just love a good broken heart. They tended to make a game out of it. I assume they get it from their mother.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm actually pretty happy with this chapter, though it's not as long as I wanted. Oh well.**

 **Please leave your thoughts by clicking that review button. I would really love some input as long as it's constructive. Or praise. I do love praise for my stories. I enjoy knowing that they are liked.**

 **~Silver~**


	10. Chapter 10

Without Destiny

Chapter 10

I'm well and truly miserable by the time I make it to the bus stop. I'm used to walking long distances and staying on my feet, active, for hours on end, but there is just something about being absolutely alone in the world under a darkening sky, cold, walking barefoot, and having the heavens constantly dumping all of its water on you that just makes you want to scream and cry while you simultaneously hate your life.

The bus stop is utterly abandoned of people- the streets and surrounding shops just as deserted.

It truly feels like I am the last person on earth- that maybe both gods and titans lost and now all that is left are the buildings that man made and the ever-present forces of nature. Like rain.

I wonder what Zeus has against this state?

I board the first bus that happens to pull up to the curb, noting that there is only one other occupying the vehicle. They keep to themselves up towards the front, so I trudge my way to the back for some privacy.

I flop, exhausted, into a seat and it's not long until the rocking motion drags me into a fitful slumber.

"Hey. Hey, kid, wake up."

A hand shakes me awake, jolting me from sleep with a stab of panic before my sluggish thoughts assess the situation.

The bus driver hovers over me, and it's just rows and rows of empty seats lit up by weak fluorescent lights.

"This is the last stop, kid. Is there somewhere specific I could take you?"

"What um," I mumble, rubbing at my eyes, "what city is this?"

"Seattle." The man replies with a touch of concern in his voice. "Can I drop you off somewhere?"

"No. No, uh this is," I yawn, staggering to my feet while trying to shake some awareness into me. The back of my head throbs from where I'd been knocked unconscious. "This is fine. Thanks," I finish with a sigh.

He allows me to slip past him in the isle until I stumble out the doors into the night that is lit very well with tall buildings and street lights.

Seattle is a much bigger city then the one I left behind, though it still seems strangely quiet. There are actually people walking about and a few cars splashing puddles up onto the sidewalk, but it seems like people are hiding. Maybe I've just grown used to the city that never sleeps (except a few weeks ago when Morpheus put all of Manhattan to sleep).

With an exhausted sigh, I set off in a random direction, hoping to stumble across an abandoned store or building I can break into for the night. The few people who are out and about (drunkards stumbling out of bars) don't pay me any attention as I meander under as many streetlights as I can until I realize that if I want to find somewhere abandoned, I'd have to go to the more rundown part of town that is less populated.

So, with my hood up and shoulders hunched, I do what every child and teenage girl are told not to do and turn down a dark alley way.

I don't make it a hundred yards before I feel someone behind me, and I whirl with a scathing remark on my tongue. It dies as I see the creature standing just to feet away, and stumble back a few steps.

The dark and rain make it difficult to see, but the figure is clearly female with red flaming hair that lies plastered to her porcelain cheeks.

She is the most beautiful person I've ever seen. And she's the most obviously inhuman creature I've ever seen (you know, other than the normal scales, ginormous, or more than the usual amount of body parts).

Her eyes glow red with blood, and her lips curl up at the corners revealing pearly white teeth as pale as her perfect skin.

"Well, well, well," she croons, even her voice alerting me to the complete inhumanness of her. "Aren't you the most delicious smelling thing I've ever come across."

I stand as still as stone as she stalks slowly around me. Every one of my instincts tell me to remain still. So, I listen to them, cocking my head to strain my ears through the patter of rain.

"A vampire I presume."

Her foot hesitates the next step, before continuing to come back around, back into my line of sight.

"What's this?" She asks, interest and curiosity shining in her unnatural gaze. Her eyes flicker closed as she inhales deeply.

I take this moment to slip my hand in my pocket and withdraw my weapon, hoping to the gods that I turned my back on, that celestial bronze hurts these creatures from a different legend.

They snap back open at my movement, and her smile is all the more gleeful than before.

"Oh, the wolves. Their scent is so faint I almost missed it. You must be close to them for their stench to still be clinging to you in this weather."

I shift to my other foot, making note of how the vampire's eyes track my slightest movement.

"What do you know of the wolves?" I question curiously, only turning my head as she starts another circle.

"Just that they have a habit of getting in my way. They can't protect the little Swan forever."

Little Swan? As in Bella Swan? I tense. What does this red eye monster want with that human?

"You'd need an army to get to her," I answer as casually as I can manage. She halts directly behind me, making it impossible to track her with my eyes.

"An interesting thought..." she compliments, and my stomach drops. That doesn't sound like just a passing comment. It's too thoughtful.

Something in the air changes, a charge to it that has my instincts reacting before my brain catches up. I find myself spinning fast, pressing the plate that extends Morph to its full length and clutching the shaft in both hands as twist my entire body, using every ounce of strength that I have, as I swing my weapon like a baseball bat.

I hadn't heard her rush me, my eyes couldn't even track her, but the end of my pole connects with her cheek hard, sending her crashing into a brick wall as the force jolts all the way up my shoulders.

She pulls herself slowly out of the crumbling wall, eyes wide and shaken as she puts a delicate hand to her no-longer perfect cheek that has cracks spider webbing out from the point of contact my pole struck.

I press another plate along the shaft and a scythe blade springs out of the end.

She eyes the weapon wearily, more hesitant of me than before, even though I myself am not certain that I could win against her.

I suppose she decides that it's not worth the risk, though, because when I blink, she's gone.

I stand there tensely for a little longer, blood singing in adrenaline as I wait, but she doesn't return to try and kill me again, so I let my stance relax. My weapon dips to where the blade tip disturbs the murky surface of a puddle.

The rain continues.

My mind races as my emotions war with themselves.

The hollow feeling in my chest throbs at the thought of leaving my new friends (because I did make some friends here) to face whatever army the red-head could dredge up. I want to go back- to at least warn them that she is after Bella (I did become somewhat fond of the girl and her old truck)- to help them.

But can I really trust myself to fight in another war? I made so many bad decisions in the last one. I already watched so many people I knew die... My choices killed them… If I had chosen differently, would my sister still be alive? Would Alison, or Mason, or Luke, still be alive….?

"Gods damn it!" I snarl, swiping my scythe angrily through the air before shrinking it and stuffing it in my pocket.

I just want to not have to fight anymore, to not watch anyone else die or be the cause of it.

Gods damn it...

I scale the fire escape of an abandoned office building, smashing the window with my elbow before I drop inside.

It's almost pitch-black inside, but I shuffle my way deeper peeling off my soaked clothes until I'm just left in my underwear as I blindly drape them on overturned chairs. Then I curl up on the carpet in a corner, ignoring the smell of dust and mildew.

I've slept in much worse conditions, and I need my energy for tomorrow and figuring out how to get back to Forks and the reservation. I slip into my usual restless sleep.

...

I walk faster after lifting the wallet off the man, giving a half-hearted apology as he curses at me for the collision. Only when I make it around the corner do I pull it out into view and thumb through the contents. I bypass the ID, snapping the credit cards so that a less kind thief won't get ahold of it, and pluck the cash from the folds.

I stuff the rest into a trash can as I pass it, counting the bills as I duck into a convenient store gas station.

Even before I made friends with kids from the Hermès cabin, I knew how to steal. It's a skill that every kid on the streets learn- all gentle fingers and no fumbling thumbs. If you get caught enough, you learn quick. I was on the streets five months before a satyr found me and took me to camp.

Sadly, nowadays people don't carry cash too often, and never much of it. It's all credit cards now.

After browsing shortly, I meander to the front of the store with a bag of chips in hand and my hood securely over my head.

As the cashier rings up my purchase with drooping eyes, I pluck the last sour gummy worms packet off the hook in front of the counter.

"Do you have any more of these?" I ask innocently.

The teenager sighs and bends down beneath the counter. When her head disappears out of sight, I reach up on my toes to pluck several bills out of the open register she had been about to put my few dollars into.

Sara, her name tag says, stands just as I return to my previous slouched leaning.

"Will that be all?" She drawls, placing another sour gummy worms on the counter next to the first.

"Actually, could you call me a taxi too?"

She rolls her eyes but picks up the phone while she rings up my worms. With a smile, I hand over some of the cash I had just taken from the register.

"Thank you!" I call as I leave the store to wait outside. It has stopped raining, but the sky still remains a stubborn overcast as I try to build up my walls and prepare myself to return to the place I had just run away from.

This feels far too much like I'm coming crawling back with my tail tucked between my legs. As I wait for my taxi to pick me up, eating my breakfast of chips and sour gummy worms, I work hard in trying to convince myself that this is not me giving in or saying I'm wrong. I have new information that I didn't have before my decision to leave. This is me righting a wrong I can never really make right.

This is me preparing for war (hopefully on the right side this time making better decisions).

* * *

 **A/N: Yay, so she's going back. I'd like to say that she would have eventually returned even if she wasn't given a reason, but man that flaw is fatal. She might have eventually realized she shouldn't have left, but she wouldn't have gone back because she is so stubborn. Sadly, I'm kind of like this.**

 **Please review!**

 **Is it physically painful to anyone else, to admit that a decision you make in the wrong one, so you go through with it anyway because you don't want to admit it? No? It's just me? Awesome.**

 **~Silver~**


	11. Chapter 11

Without Destiny

Chapter 11

At the start of my life, before camp, my whole world was just me against everyone else. The adults who called me a liar, my guardians who only hurt me, the children who scorned anyone who was different because their parents did. Me vs them. Me vs the monsters. There was no difference. They were all the same.

 _A meaty hand snags a thin wrist and yanks hard on the child on top of the other. Fists and feet flail, connecting with flesh and chairs and ground._

 _"Stupid girl! Get off of him."_

 _The firm hand of the man clamps down hard on the back of the girl's neck, the other wrapped completely around the wrist and squeezes until she stills her fight._

 _"What is going on here?" The man booms._

 _"She just attacked me for no reason! She's crazy!" The boy shrieks, holding a bloody nose with tears streaking down plump cheeks._

 _"Liar!" The girl screams, wincing and snapping her jaw shut when the hand at the base of her neck squeezes._

 _"You have the gall to attack my boy?" The man growls. "_ My _boy?"_

 _He tugs her hard down the hall, his large steps too big for the child to keep up, who does everything she can to dig her heels into the ground._

 _"Wait!" She gasps. "Wait, I'm sorry! I'll do all the chores, I won't eat, I won't do it again- I promise!"_

 _"Maybe you should have thought about that before attacked my son."_

 _"Please!" The child begs as he opens a door and tosses her through. The girl is up on her feet throwing herself at the door in an instant, but it is already shut tight and locked from the outside._

 _The door rattles and bangs as she throws her entire body against it, pounding and twisting the handle desperately._

 _"Please let me out?! Please- I'll be good! I promise! Please? Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!"_

 _Her breathing comes so fast and hard that she's dizzy as her shaking hands reach out, feeling the enclosed walls of the closet all around her. She's been in here before. She knows the only way out is when they decide to let her out, but she can't help searching anyway._

 _"Let me out!" She howls, throwing herself at the walls until she can't stand or breathe, and she's left curled up on the floor, knees pulled to her chest and arms covering her hunched head as she fights to take in air._

 _"Please," she whimpers, voice breaking from her tears. "It's not my fault..."_

It's only after I get back to the reservation, only after I'm standing in front of Emily's door, do I realize that I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to do this. If I am to fight alongside them, I'd have to tell them about my own world and I've never done that before.

Back home, it is Chiron or cabin counselors who break the news to a new camper. Everyone who needs to know already knows by the time they get to me.

Besides, giving up information about myself like this grates on me. Information is power. I don't like giving mine up so carelessly or readily.

So, when I hear the faint voices coming from the back of the house, I sneak around the side, hugging the wall and keeping low until I'm close enough to edge one eye around and listen in on the conversation.

"-ella running off with the leech, Jake is all out of sorts. Everyone is stressed- especially with everything with Leah."

I strain my ears harder, wondering what could have possibly happened with Leah in 24 hours. I choose to ignore the information about Bella and leeches for now.

"How is she?" Sam asks, concerned.

"Seth is with her, but it's not looking good. You know what happens when a wolf is rejected by their Imprint."

"Thanks, Jarred. Please keep me informed."

"Of course," the boy nods, and I back away from the house.

I need to find out what's happened to Leah and how it has to do with me. I take off running, heart beating fast.

I only stop when I reach her house, and I again hesitate at the front door before schooling my expression, taking a deep breath, and knock.

Seth opens the door.

Seth is a kind boy- energetic, happy. Unlike the others, I've never seen him get angry.

Until now. His fists shake in Shifter rage as he glares at me.

"What are you doing here, Mack? Come back to make sure my sister is finished off?"

"What's wrong with her?" I ask taken aback, and try to look into the house I stayed in longer than some of my foster homes.

He's quiet a moment, and I look back to him. He seems to be fighting with himself. Finally, he steps back, allowing me entrance.

Leah isn't in the front room.

"She's dying," he says dully, and I whip my head in his direction in shock.

"What?"

His face remains stoic for a few more moments before his face crumples in pain and he falls onto the couch with his head in his hands.

"You left. You rejected her."

"So, what?" I growl, frustrated with all these non-answers and people saying things like it's supposed to mean something to me.

"When a wolf is rejected by their imprint, the wolf dies. You become their entire world. They would do anything, be anything, for you. You are destined for each other, but if an imprint rejects the wolf, the wolf loses the will to live and they die."

His words ring in my ears, only background to the sound of my pounding heart.

Fury.

"Destiny," I snarl. "There is no destiny- only gods sitting on their thrones looking down on us and pushing us around like pieces in a game. Don't you get it? It's not _real_."

Seth looks up at me, eyes boring with some undefined, very controlled emotion. From what little I've been told of Shifters, his restraint is very impressive.

"It's seems very real to me. It's sure as hell very real for my sister."

My fists clench white.

I hate this! "So that's it? My choice is gone- ripped away because if I don't want her, she dies?" With a roar of all my rage at the gods, all my frustration, I slam my fists through the wall and lash out at the lamp perched beside the couch.

I had to stretch across Leah several times to turn it off, several times over this past week, when she fell asleep while we watched movies at the end of the day. It shatters under my wrath.

"Why should I be responsible for someone else's happiness? For their life? It's my choice. _Mine_! How is it fair to me that it kills her if I don't love her."

He remains unmoved by my tantrum. I feel more like the Shifter with control issues than him.

"How is it fair to _her_ that she has to give up her entire future because her blood made her wolf, responsible for protecting her people. How is it fair to _her_ that she has to love you, and that it _kills_ her if you reject her? Go on then. Turn around and walk back out that door. Kill my sister."

A cold fear takes my breath, along with all the strength my anger gave me, and I slump down to the floor.

I really don't want to do that. If I had known... no, if I had known, my emotions would still be as they are now. I am attracted to Leah, and I might have started developing a crush, but I do not love her. I've hardly known her a week. I don't love as easily as a first glance.

"What if I can't love her the way she wants me to?" I ask weakly, resigned to be the cause of another death.

"All you have to do is be here, and let _her_ love _you_."

That's going to be hard. Really hard. Even if my past doesn't find me, and I'm able to stay, I'm not good at letting people in, letting them love me. Alison told me I'm that hardest person to love she's ever met.

I sigh shakily, hating the gods, but unable to do anything.

My choice. Not destiny- I never believed in it. They won't take my choices (even if it's the wrong one). But what happened to Leah's choice? She didn't choose to Imprint on me or become a shifter.

"Can I see her?"

Seth jerks his head in a nod before slumping to his feet. Even though I know the way well, he still leads me to her bedroom just down the hall from my own. I suppose it will be mine again soon.

My choice. I'm not giving in to this arranged marriage Aphrodite is trying to force on me. I'm keeping a friend, someone who helped me (even if the reason is because she fell in love with me the moment she saw me), alive.

When he doesn't make a move to enter, I hesitantly push the door open.

* * *

 **A/N: Guys, I think this is my favorite story that I'm writing. I'm so happy with this and I hope you guys love it just as much.**

 **So, we got another little peek into Mack's childhood experience. Fun.**

 **Please review!**

 **~Silver~**


	12. Chapter 12

Without Destiny

Chapter 12

I didn't know someone's appearance could change so drastically in only 24 hours. I cringe at my first look at the girl, bundled in blankets even as the sweat sticks her messy hair to her forehead. Leah's normally glowing russet skin looks ashen and pale, her lips twisted in utter misery.

Even as I take a step into the room, that strange tug in my chest dragging me closer, she doesn't open her eyes or acknowledge another presence invading her isolation. I grimace as my eyes glance over her tear streaked cheeks.

 _Heartbroken_ , the word flashes guiltily through my head, even as I knew that this was the only outcome for anyone who ends up loving me. Even as heartbroken she may look, she also looks truly sick. Like my rejection really does physically harm her.

She sniffles, and that damn tugging cord on my heart has my feet moving all the way into her room until I am kneeling at her bedside and my hand hovers just over her head.

With a sigh, I push the gross sticky hair out of her face, doing my best to ignore how disturbed and spooked I feel at discovering just how real these emotions she has for me actually are.

She hardly even knows me. I have to restrain myself from bolting back out the door and not coming back this time. I came here for a reason. I have to be here, now more than I realized before I made the decision to return.

So with a lump of rising fear, feeling more like a skittish animal than the hero of a story, I clear my throat.

"L-Leah," I call softly.

Her eyes immediately flash open, deep brown and intense, and an underline of golden flecks. The intensity and sorrow she looks at me with does nothing but cause my skittishness to reflect more outward by snatching my hand back and sitting farther back on my heels.

"Mack?" she croaks, confused.

I glance backward towards the door at Seth who hovers protectively but shows no sign of giving direction. He is a silent observer.

I turn back to the wolf-girl who claims to love me, without knowing anything about what she loves.

"Yeah, um," I clear my throat again. "I'm back and I'm not going anywhere this time." Another glance shot at Seth. "So, you can, um, get better now. I'm here."

Gods, I feel so awkward, so unnatural. I don't know how to deal with crying girls.

She only blinks at me and turns over, facing away and closing her eyes again like she is waiting on death.

At that thought, I feel real panic and concern, just a moment of it, for this kind girl that I took advantage of. Forgetting the observer in the room, I circle back around the bed to kneel by her face again.

"Hey," I shake her, forgetting that maybe I need to be gentle. " _Hey_ ," I insist.

Her dead eyes open on me again. "Why are you here?" she moans, burying her sweaty face in the damp pillow under her.

I feel a flash of annoyance. Can't she see I'm trying here? Before I can stop myself, or actually process what I'm doing, I rip the pillow out from underneath her and stand up.

She sits up quick on one arm, bafflement written across her exhausted looking face.

"What's your problem?!"

"You are. I'm here, now get up. That's what you wanted, right?"

Her face twists into a grimace and she tries to hide it again in the mattress. "No. Just go away."

Anger flushes my face. I hate being dismissed. It feels worse for some reason coming from her (maybe because she's never done it to me before. She's always so attentive).

" _Hey_ ," I drop the pillow to the ground and shove at her shoulder, trying to get her to roll over.

She rolls easier than I thought at my touch, but her arms come up in an attempt to cover her face. "Please," she cries wetly through her hands desperately scrubbing at her face, "Please just go away. I don't want you to be here if you don't even want to be."

Shit, what am I doing? Stop it Mack, you're supposed to be helping her, not yelling and getting angry. But it's like I can't stop myself. It's like everything she says just pisses me off! Gods she's so difficult.

My hands pry her wrists from her face with a scowl. "Would you stop that? No one can make me do anything I don't want to. It's _my_ choice!" Why doesn't anyone seem to get that? "I came back before I ever even knew you were like this so pull yourself together because your pity fest is _pissing me off_!"

"Hey-"

"Stay out of it!" I snarl at Seth as he makes a move to stop me, even as _I_ internally plead with myself to stop and just calm down.

I pull the miserable girl up into a sitting position, managing to somehow be gentle even as my steadying hands are firm.

"You being like this is not helping anyone, not your brother, your pack, or even yourself. No one ever got anything by just laying down and giving up. If you want me, _fight_ for me. Because I'm certainly not going to fall for someone who just curls up and lets themselves die after a failure."

My mind flashes back to the beach, the heat that flooded trough me as she fought for me. I'm by no means helpless, but it felt good having someone fight for me like that. I don't like this person who's given up the first time I do something wrong. Especially since I already know that in every relationship that I have, I always screw up and I'm too stubborn to admit it most of the time. At least to stubborn to go to them first and admit it.

It's why I have so few friends. Because once I make a mistake, it's over with most people. I'm not worth it.

That's why this bugs me so much. Her giving up tells me that I'm not worth it. And it makes me so fucking angry.

"I'm here of my own free will, because I want to be here, not out of obligation." As I speak, the more true it feels. I did feel obligated to come back and warn them, I did have doubt, but this time I'm doing the right thing. I want to do the right thing this time. I want to fight with them. My fury at her, the situation, my own feelings of worthlessness, meet her doe eyed startled expression. "So, get your ass up. Because Bella and your pack are going to need you soon."

* * *

 **A/N: So it has been a really long time... Sorry. I went to Field Training and then got busy with school, and then I tossed my phone (which had all my stories on it) over the rail to concrete three stories down. Needless to say, I lost ALL of them.**

 **Sigh. I hate myself so much. So, to be realistic, I probably wont update until summer. Sorry guys. But I will make an effort if I have time. It's just been a rough school year. Anyway, so reading all the reviews inspired me to go ahead and write this. Please review and give me some more inspiration. Thanks for reading!**

 **~Silver~**


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